quarantine next morning, and moved across the river to the site of the
hospital which we were to take over. It lay round a bend in the river on
the right bank above and well out of the town. To the north lay the
river, to the south the desert. A large number of mud and reed huts, in
long rows, stood on the plain, covering an area of about a quarter of a
square mile. These were the wards. There was a sense of space that was
refreshing after the cramped and littered area of the clearing at
Basra, with its surrounding marshes and palm groves. We officers were
put in tents in a small palm and pomegranate thicket at the periphery of
the hospital area. The nursing quarters were at the other end, nearer
the town. These quarters were built of wood and low roofed, with a layer
of mud on the top. The nurses were in many cases volunteers who had seen
service in Mudros, and these had just got the Royal Red Cross Medal,
equivalent to a D.S.O. Very pleased they were with it, and greatly they
deserved it. Their quarters were divided by thin mud walls into narrow
compartments, and they found the lack of sound-deadening properties
trying. But that is a universal experience of this war--the continual
overhearing of conversation, the necessity for being in a crowd, and the
lack of moments of privacy. They slept out of doors, on the river front,
in a wired enclosure, patrolled by a sentry. The sentries were a
peculiarity of the place which distinguished it from Basra. For in that
region looters came in from the desert, some from the villages and some
from camps of nomad Arabs. Their great ambition was firearms. The second
ambition seemed to be clothing. There must exist somewhere a complete
colony of khaki-clad Arabs, of all ranks up to Staff officers, probably
in some district Persia-way, in the Pashtikhu hills. They were extremely
daring. They would come in at night on horseback, leave their horses out
on the plain and stroll in under the sentries' noses. For many months a
spirit of compromise was shown in the matter, but eventually a stronger
line was taken and the Sheiks of the surrounding country were put under
the penalty of a heavy fine if looting continued. Occasionally men were
stabbed by these marauders, who carried long, curved knives, but the
main object was looting and not killing.
It was a singular spot to find a large number of women, away up in the
heart of that elemental country of fire and water and earth. But they
remained untouched by any kind of pessimism, nor were they greatly
interested in the campaign as a military affair. All their interest was
in their work. They were a wonderful stimulus. Where a man unwittingly
tended to let things slide they exhorted and energised. In details, they
did not seem to show that gradual decadence that creeps imperceptibly
over men when isolated and overworked. It is perhaps so subtle that it
takes a woman to detect it. Women may be theoretically unscientific, but
they are essential to the maintenance of the scientific spirit and
practice. Naturally they suffered sickness, but not nearly so much as
one might have expected; for discipline plays a tremendous part in the
avoidance of sickness. It is not so much a physical factor as a moral
one. It seemed possible to induce a practice of going sick very easily,
and in that climate it was only necessary to permit some inner act of
surrender that escapes simple definition, but resembles the lowering of
a dog's tail, and one became a sick man. It was not exactly malingering.
Beyond the western boundary of the hospital, behind the officers' tents,
lay an oriental garden. An oil engine and pumps at the river's edge
supplied the water to it through channels. The machine was worked by an
Arab who, as far as one could tell, prayed to it. In the garden, full of
moist heat and splashes of colour, lived a colony of jackals, those
extraordinary spirits of hell, whose wailing and hysteria are so
amazing. I do not know how Darwin would have accounted for the
particular note they strike. It is probably on a level with the roaring
of the lion, in that it is designed to terrify. But the jackal does not
terrify by such obvious methods as the lion. He plays on your eerie,
ghostly, superstitious side. He brings up into the imagination the
malignity and hopelessness of the damned. He seems to people the night
with wailing horrors. To a man dying of thirst in the desert, the jackal
must just give the final touch of despair that makes death and
nothingness seem best. It must be strange to die, surrounded by jackals
at their chthonian litanies.
Shortly after we reached Amara, the news came that Sir Victor Horsley
had died. It was in a season of extreme heat, when death comes suddenly
in many forms. Eighty officers attended his funeral in columns of
fours, the most junior in front. He had a coffin. Wood was precious in
Amara. There were some other bodies sewn up in army blankets. A long,
dusty march of a mile to the cemetery, a shallow earth grave, a brief
ceremony, the same for all, and a weary tramp home in the sun--that was
the final picture. There is one detail to add, and that is the lovely
playing of the "Last Post" over the graves. In him we lost the finest
surgeon in Mesopotamia.
For many days after this we moved about as it were in a vast furnace.
The nights were broken by sand-flies. Personally, I found the only way
of keeping them out was to wear socks on the feet and hands, and smear
the face and neck with some kind of ointment, on which their feet slip,
so that they cannot find a purchase when in the act of driving their
sucking apparatus into the skin. In the morning, what with the sweat and
the grease, and the tropical exhaustion, one looked like few things on
earth. Oil of citronella is only of temporary use; paraffin and creosote
are of little good. Butter muslin nets are out of the question, as the
heat is stifling under them. The burning of aromatic or pungent
compounds is useless, and as for killing them, one might lie awake all
night, scuffling and dabbing and slapping at the almost invisible forms
without gaining the slightest benefit. In the day time they hide in
cracks in the ground, under bits of matting or anywhere out of the sun.
Sand-fly fever is a malady that begins like influenza. One aches all
over. All the side of life that is enjoyment fades away. It is
impossible to smoke, or eat, or drink, or read, or talk. In Malta, where
it is indigenous, a convalescence of three weeks is allowed. It was not
possible to allow that in Amara. The fever lasts two or three days,
coming down in two main stages. The use of opium is recommended. As
regards the use of opium in Mesopotamia, it was possible to gain the
idea from actual experience that it was a most valuable drug during the
hot season. If limited to three drugs and no more, for work in that
country, I should prefer opium, Epsom salts and quinine. The quinine
that we obtained through official channels was in the form of pink
tablets and came from the cinchona plantations at Darjeeling that are
run by the Indian Government. These tablets are coloured pink to prevent
fraudulent selling, for they are handed out to natives in malarial
districts in large quantities, free of charge, and natives are not great
believers in medicine. The tablets are extremely hard and insoluble.
Prolonged exposure to the action of dilute mineral acids produces no
effect on them. We had, for the men, quinine parades, when five grains
were swallowed as a prophylactic against malaria every day. They were
amusing affairs to watch--serried ranks with water-bottles, standing to
attention while the sergeant dispenser walked with proper dignity down
the line handing a pink tablet to each man, who gulped it spasmodically,
took a draught of water and returned to attention. It reminded one of a
religious ceremony, of some strange communion service. In giving the
quinine in large doses it was essential to dissolve it, if any effect
was aimed at. Even then it rarely produced symptoms of quinine
poisoning. The home preparations were more satisfactory to use. As
regards opium, it was useful, apart from sand-fly fever, in those
frayed, sleepless states of mind that prolonged heat induces. The
English idea that a dose of morphia or laudanum at once induces the
opium habit, though very safe, is not altogether sound. Other hypnotics
were usually not strong enough to give long sleep; but here, to produce
an effect with hypnotics, it seemed necessary to double the dose. This
may have had something to do with some deterioration in drugs caused by
the big demands of the war. But I do not think it was the only
explanation. Of course, for those who dreaded the use of opium, and
preferred chloral or bromide, it was only necessary to glance into the
tents where the Chinese carpenters slept at night. There one saw rows of
comatose figures and if you cared to lift the lips from the gums of
those sleepers, you would usually see a little sticky mass of opium
wedged in between the teeth. That was one way of solving the problem of
sand-flies and heat at night and no doubt an admirable illustration of
the dangers of the drug. But it is possible to find illustrations for
everything.
At Amara, paratyphoid A was commonest in the troops coming down from the
Front. It was not a very grave disorder, but sometimes, particularly
when complicated by other factors, it was fatal. It must be remembered
that many patients reached us as emaciated skeletons, in the last stage
of exhaustion. Special wards were set aside for typhoid cases. Dysentery
was also increasing, and wards were reserved for these cases. It was
mainly what is called bacillary dysentery, for which Epsom salts is one
of the best remedies. All typhoid cases, as soon as convalescent, were
sent to India. That was because they often carry the germs in the
intestinal tract a long time after recovery and therefore may become a
source of infection. They spent on an average three months in India
before returning for service. There was no place in Mesopotamia where
convalescent patients could be sent with a reasonable prospect of
gaining full health. About twenty miles beyond Aligarbi lie the
Pashtikhu hills and there in those high altitudes a big military
sanatorium might have been established. This would have saved endless
transport difficulties, if a light railway had been constructed. But no
doubt the military situation rendered the carrying out of such an idea
impracticable. Heat-stroke in Amara was common enough, but it did not
seem so fatal as at Basra. This, perhaps, was due to the air, which was
drier and fresher. The supply of ice was also more adequate.
We had some unlucky spells. It is a curious thing that luck seems to
enter into the matter of death rates. I mean that sometimes for two or
three days at a time cases seemed to go wrong and die, on the slightest
provocation. At other times, when the luck changed, the most hopeless
cases would clear up. It was the same way in the operating theatre. It
is the same way with everything, whether it be card playing, or
business, or war, or love, or thinking, or sport. There are phases in
which something seems to overshadow the scene. The direction of the
current changes. For a time everything seems to go wrong. The machinery
behind life, that is always helping you on, stops and reverses. And
there is another aspect of the same thing which doctors sometimes see in
a remarkable way. It is the occurrence of similar kinds of cases at the
same time. For part of it there is the scientific explanation of
infection by germs.
[Illustration: EZRA'S TOMB.]
The Shimal was now blowing from the north-west, bringing the dust in
from the desert. At times it produced a strange effect. The atmosphere
became dun-coloured, thickened at places into opaque and rushing veils.
Under the pressure of the strong, hot wind the big _mahallas_, with
their white sails in tense curves, careered down the river with only a
streak of white foam under the prow to show they were not suspended in
the air. The further bank, pale and unsubstantial, was outlined fitfully
in the hurrying gloom. A kind of lividity spread over the picture,
bleaching it of all colour. Everything in the wards became silted over
with fine powder, and the big yellow and black hornets and the
long-legged wasps that seem to have two or three pendant abdomens and
are the hue of Burgundy marigolds, came hurtling through the unglazed
windows to crawl, half-stunned, about the mud floors. How the ward
Sisters anathematised these days! The storms provoked a feeling not
unlike east winds at home. They brought out small aches and pains and
one got irritable. A thunderstorm would have cleared away the effect,
but the sky remained cloudless and brazen.
IX
ARABIAN COMEDY
Nothing was happening at the front. Occasionally there was spasmodic
shelling and bomb dropping, but the heat prevented any general activity.
Headquarters was under howitzer fire at times. One shell landed in the
mess waiter's tent and damaged nine men.
There was a tale told at the time concerning a powerful Sheik near the
front who was neutral. His son becoming ill, he sent to the Turks, and
also to us, for a doctor. The Turks, or rather the Germans, sent a
German doctor, and a German lady as well, the latter as a bribe. We sent
a medical officer, unattended. The Sheik kept them all. So far as I
know he may still be keeping them, and remaining strictly neutral. It
must be remembered that the Arabs--as well as many Indians--have been
led to believe that not only the Kaiser is a Mohammedan, but the German
people in general.
Towards the end of July there were day temperatures of 124 degrees in
the shade, and the wind, when it blew, seemed as if it had passed over a
burning city. It was impossible to do anything save what was absolutely
necessary. The sickness amongst the medical staff became rather serious,
and at times we had to look after far more cases than we could treat
adequately. But in these moments of temporary dislocation, the presence
of nurses made all the difference and that state of confusion that had
existed in Basra never occurred.
The day's programme was unvarying. After a somewhat exhausting night we
rose at seven. The best hours of sleep were usually after sunrise, for
then the sand-flies vanished. After breakfast of tea, eggs and bread,
the ward work started. This lasted until about midday. Then came lunch,
accompanied by many flies, and afterwards a long siesta, during which
one wore the minimum of clothing. At four or five one dressed again,
after a bath, and took a look at the wards to see any bad cases. Then
the evening began, in which life became more possible. Dinner was
usually a cheerful meal. After dinner what to do was a great problem.
One just did nothing. During all this time everyone became thin. Any
sickness, even a slight attack of diarrhoea, brought down weight
rapidly. There was the case of a certain sergeant, whose immense girth
was much revered by the Arabs. One can understand, perhaps, how it
comes about that fatness is admired in the East. It is so rare. It is
much easier to be thin. The sergeant went into hospital for a few days.
When he came out he had lost his glory even as Samson was shorn of his
strength in a night. His clothes hung about him in huge folds. What had
taken him years to produce was lost in six days, and with it went the
respect of the Arabs. There is practically no fat in the country. There
was no dripping for puddings. The cattle were all lean.
It is necessary to say a word about the Indian _personnel_ attached to
the hospital. These were the water carriers, washers and sweepers. They
had been immensely pleased at the idea of leaving Basra. But at Amara,
where they found things little better, there was some lamentation. In
temperament they were mere children requiring a father. But of one
venerable and aged man I would like to record a few things. He was a
gaunt, tall, grey-bearded fellow as thin as a stick-insect, and he
performed the most menial of all services, being a sweeper by caste. But
what he did was done with passionate devotion. He had seen service in
France and spoke a few curious French words. Troops on active service in
France certainly are taught some strange phrases. All day he toiled with
his kerosene tins and brushes and when he had nothing to do he invented
something. He would, for instance, dust the palm trees outside the mess,
pausing always to salute even the shadow of an officer on the horizon in
a stiff cramped fashion, and then applying himself with silent zeal to
his remarkable task. He came one day in some grief and said that he had
heard that his daughter in his village in India was to have married a
certain man. He, the father, had contributed 100 rupees towards the cost
of the ceremony. The suitor had taken the money and then announced his
intention of marrying someone else. News of the fraud had reached the
venerable old man in Mesopotamia and caused him to tremble with wrath.
Could the great Sahib, who was his father and mother, write to the
Viceroy of India and demand justice? To which the great Sahib in
question, after considering the matter gravely, replied, "Write to the
pig who is the son of a pig and say to him that unless he marries thy
daughter before two moons have passed then will the Viceroy himself be
informed by a telegram which I myself will send, and justice shall be
served out in this evil matter." The joy of the old man was great and he
hastened away to get the letter written. Next day he was clattering his
tins and brushes with a devotion to duty that was as worthy of a medal
as many things in the war. I was told the marriage was now certain to
come off. Still, it seems a bad beginning to matrimony, and if a man is
a pig, and the son of a pig, his children will presumably also be pigs.
There was an Arab theatre at Amara, and in September they produced a
play, in Arabic. It was based on a topical incident. No Arab was allowed
to go into camps, hospitals and so on, without a pass, and this was
amazing to the Oriental mind. The scene was a bare stage, lit by flares,
and an audience of bearded Arabs, Arab police and a few British officers
in the front row. On the stage sat a fat woman mournfully shaking a
tambourine, and between whiles going to sleep. Up the middle centre lay
a fat man, groaning. It was evident that he was playing a sick part.
Beside him lamented his wife, a dancing girl, squat-nosed and heavy
hipped. The low comedian entered. It is not in the interests of the
public to describe him too closely. Eventually he assumed the part of
physician. His treatment of the patient followed the plan of exorcising
a devil. He hit and kicked him, spat on him and jumped on him. There was
no improvement and the man died. The problem was now how to bury him.
The low comedian said he would attend to that and heaved the fat man on
his shoulders and went off to the cemetery. After an interminable pause
he reappeared still carrying the corpse. He dumped it on the ground and
made a gesture of despair. "It is no good," he said. "I cannot bury him.
I haven't got a pass!" This brought the house down and the fat woman
woke up and applied herself vigorously to the tambourine. At the theatre
at Basra, when European films were shown, the Arabs always laughed very
much at the amount of kissing that white folk indulged in. It seemed to
strike them as an extraordinary way of passing the time.
Arab women are not beautiful. Their faces are aquiline, their cheek
bones high, and their lips coarse. Their figures are lithe and they walk
well, with a sinuous swagger. But there is a sharp, harsh tone about
them and one could imagine them very accomplished in bitter speeches.
Their eyes are their best feature, but they contain an expression that
is hard, restless and challenging. They mess themselves about with
henna. Some wear nose rings and all wear bangles that clash as they
walk. They were interested in the nurses and seemed for some obscure
reason mildly amused. As labourers they were employed in large numbers
carrying baskets of earth on their heads, or mixing mud and straw for
plastering purposes. At a comparatively early age they lose whatever
looks they possess and become most extraordinarily malevolent hags. The
Arab men, as they age, usually look rather fine and dignified. The young
Arab is not attractive. He looks heavy, sullen and sensual, and his
expression is full of greed and cunning.
X
THE BATTLE OF THE BUND
It was when the moon began to wane that the Arab marauders became
troublesome. Shots whizzed about the place at night, and one continually
heard the high pitched, nervous challenge of native sentries: "'Alt, who
goes da?" It was unwise to move about after dark without a lantern. In
peace time Amara is not free from this kind of trouble and an
interpreter remarked that just as much shooting used to go on then. It
was as well not to be absent-minded. One of the Sisters on her way back
from a ward at night was challenged, and thought it was some delirious
patient. She approached him resolutely and the click of a rifle brought
her to her senses. Towards the end of August the amount of looting
became serious. On the other side of the river was a big camp, where
troops were sent to refit and rest. Here the thieves played many cunning
tricks and there was some killing. They were adroit in stampeding horses
and in the confusion that followed making off with several. The sentries
were not allowed to load their rifles, as promiscuous firing was a
source of danger to the occupants of the tents, which were crowded
together on the plain. At times the looters slipped down the river in
boats, and it became necessary to stop all night traffic. Any craft seen
during the night was fired at from the bank.
We had our own particular problem. The hospital lay exposed to the
plain. A bund, or mud wall, marked the outer boundary. The native
sentries who were allotted to guard the place were insufficient in
number, as the area was considerable and thefts were constant. The
doctors and orderlies volunteered to do sentry duty, and one Arab was
shot and one wounded. This did not stop the stealing. Kit of every kind
disappeared. At times a man woke up to find an Arab calmly removing his
mosquito net, while another stood over him with a knife. It was a good
policy to remain motionless for a short time. It was better than
remaining motionless for ever. During the day time a large number of
Arab men and women were employed in the hospital area. There were about
fifty or so who sat all day under a matting shelter making mortar by
some mysterious process of hammering, singing their eternal nursery
rhymes that sound like "Ina Dina Dinah Do" over and over again. All
these Arabs were turned out of the compound before nightfall by the
local Arab police--picturesque fellows, who wore khaki uniforms and Arab
head cloths--but it is probable that they had something to do with the
thefts. They were certainly guilty of other thefts and on one occasion
the Indians, who had suffered severely as their tents lay nearest to the
plain, very nearly murdered an Arab whom they found with some crusts of
bread and some cooking utensils tied up in his clothing.
[Illustration: WALLED VILLAGE ON BANKS OF TIGRIS.]